It was Tuesday
by TechnoRanma
Summary: CEO Arthur Kirkland is overworked and overstressed. Well, he is, until his relationship with his new secretary, Alfred F. Jones, turns into something different altogether. Now he's just over. UK/US Office AU 4/10
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and I'm making no money from this!

A/N: De-anon from the kink_meme. The general plot bunny is definitely accredited to the anonymous poster!! Completely AU setting. Uses human names. Will contain sexual situations.

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**Part One**

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It was Monday morning, and in the heart of London's financial district, the CEO of Heta Corporation walked briskly through the revolving doors of the sleek blue high rise. His polished shoes picked up the reflections on the equally polished granite flooring as he strode importantly past the security and front desk. A tousled head of sandy-blond hair stopped in front of one set of large golden lift doors, and stepped inside as they opened.

The lift rocketed to the topmost levels of the building, and only when the elevator pinged at his arrived destination did the CEO finally breathe out a small sigh as peaceful quiet surrounded him up here, in comparison with the rest of the complex. The British man reached into his breast pocket and pulled out his day timer, ready to get to work.

A little absentmindedly, Arthur Kirkland made his way down the hall to where his large, solitary, office was stationed. The layout of the executive suite was a lot like many of the other buildings in the vicinity – there was an outer area with chairs, a desk and a few shelves and cabinets (where a lower employee was supposed to sit and ward off any undue visitors or calls), before one reached the impressive doors of his private quarters.

He had been the practicing CEO of Heta Corp for 8 years now, and throughout all that time, Arthur had unconcernedly walked past the many people who had sat in the secretarial chair, preferring much more to stride straight into his haven and slam the door behind him.

Finding himself going to have a full day today, Arthur snapped his booklet shut and growled out his customary, "NO CALLS", as he reached for the shiny handle of his door.

His progress was completely stopped though, when his foot caught on a box and he nearly went flying.

"Ack! Egad, what… what is this?" Arthur muttered crossly and glanced down.

The floor was littered with a back log of boxes. Shock and confusion covered the British man's features and, in an uncharacteristic move, he looked up.

Yes, this was probably the first time that the copiously busy CEO had actually looked up from his planner and noticed that (also for the first time) the assistant seat was _empty_.

"What the devil…" Arthur looked around the room and realised that there were stacks of unorganized papers, files, and notes piling up on just about every surface there was. Rushing over to the secretarial desk, the green-eyed man dug through and pulled up a few notes he recognized as having tossed there over the past couple days.

Well shit.

That explained why he hadn't gotten those reports, the crumpets, or the taxi he'd asked for.

Shear bewilderment instantly unfurled in Mr. Kirkland's brain at the chaos, and he threw down the notes, kicking the boxes out of the way as he stormed inside his office.

"I cannot _believe_ this…!" Arthur grabbed up his phone and began punching numbers with the great indignity of someone unwilling to admit they were left out of the loop.

In Arthur's world, things could never run tightly enough. He really had no time for all the _Hoo-Hah_ and the nonsense Heta Corp's employees managed to raise on a daily basis, and sometimes it felt like nothing at all got done. Needless to say, because of this belief the CEO had garnered something of a crabby reputation among the lot of departments, but here… Here was his bloody proof!

The ringing finally stopped and a drawling voice picked up.

"Allô, ici Francis Bonnefoy, c'est de la part de qui-"

Arthur felt an aggravated tick start immediately on his forehead. "Bonnefoy, for the LAST TIME stop answering the bloody phone in that- that flighty excuse for a language! _Get in here!_" The British man slammed the receiver down and scowled, walking into the outer office to wait for the H-R director to arrive.

Fortunately he did not have to wait long, because a few minutes later there was a musical rapping at the opened door and the sound of someone with a thick French accent walking in.

"Good morning~ How can I-"

"Who the hell is in charge of all of this!?" Arthur instantly bellowed, gesticulating to the chaos of filing and backlog which filled the room around him.

Francis Bonnefoy, Human Resources Director extraordinaire, took a poignant moment to survey the disarray and the CEO's harried (well more than usual, anyway) appearance. A hand went to the Frenchman's artistically stubble covered chin as he tutted in reply.

"Mon dieu… Well, the old office manager quit a week ago. They were quite adamant about it- ah. Anyway, there was a memo delivered to you I'm sure~…"

A memo. A bleeding memo in this forest of paper? Arthur was certain he'd never seen the thing. In any case, it hardly mattered at the moment. The young executive felt like pulling out his hair in frustration.

"All right. Smashing. Then _hire_ someone. At once." Honestly did he have to do everyone else's job around here too?

"Certainly~" Francis acknowledged a little too casually. "Who should I call up, hm?"

Apparently he did.

Arthur blinked hard in shock. "I don't know – someone with a few credentials, someone with two hands and two eyes! Hell! Someone who's just easy on the eyes!! I don't care who it is, just hire someone so all this gets done!"

He punctuated his point by throwing a folder on top of an already teetering pile. Said pile tilted and spilled over, covering the CEOs shoes in paper frustration.

Francis simply raised one silky French eyebrow. "Suit yourself, mon ami."

"And get it done by _yesterday_." Arthur stalked around in a huff and felt slightly better when he at last got to slam his door.

* * *

It was Tuesday, and Arthur Kirkland was once again zooming to the top of the Heta Corp building, his briefcase held loosely in one hand, the other holding his day timer as he frowned.

So absorbed in his routine, the British CEO walked straight into the office rooms at full speed– and was ultimately alarmed into freezing mid-step upon seeing an unfamiliar tall blond going through his things.

Arthur stared at the man's back as he rummaged and felt his large brows begin to furrow. The man was whistling to himself, and, having found something interesting, the blond took a seat on the file cabinet and started leafing through a few papers.

Arthur must have made a dubious sound, because suddenly the man looked up and saw him.

"Oh, hey there!"

Even worse.

The _American_ looked up and saw him.

The newly-labelled American zealously made to get up, but Arthur had already backed out of the room, his expression equipped with drama.

The CEO very nearly leaped into the open lift and jabbed a button in a move worthy of the Art of Karate.

"Bonnefoy." Arthur barked as he reached the H-R department head desk. It was empty, and one more short and glowering elevator ride later, Arthur Kirkland was walking into the accounting department.

"Bonnefoy?" He looked around and then spotted the culprit sitting high among the uniform pattern of work stations. A few peels of laughter sounded around the Frenchman as he recounted something with a flourish, and Arthur's teeth clicked together in a quick seethe. No doubt Francis had left his post and was chatting up the other employees _again_.

"_Francis!_" Arthur hissed out, walking over belligerently. It caused an abrupt end to the giggles and laughter that had been going on just then.

"Oui, oui?" The Frenchman turned around at the sound of his name.

…Deciding to ignore Francis' incorrect whereabouts, Arthur favoured the other man with a cut-eyed look.

"Who is he and why is he touching my cabinet?"

The seated man looked unperturbed. "Ah! Him. Well, you did say hire someone... He is the new secretary."

Arthur turned an incredulous gaze on his H-R director. "He's the _what?_"

"Your new assistant, Monsieur Kirkland, _please_." The long haired man seemed on the verge of rolling his eyes.

Arthur just squared his jaw and scowled for more information.

Bonnefoy waved a hand. "Practically fresh out of school that one, but he had a certain… _détermination_ about him. Strong in science and finance. Besides," Francis wiggled his shoulders and then pushed himself into a standing position. "He's easy on the eyes as well, no?"

"…." For once Arthur couldn't find something to say, as the H-R director had actually done what he had asked.

The insufferable Frenchman winked and sauntered away leaving Arthur to deal with it himself, as usual.

Not being one to let a reprimand slide, the Englishman turned his displeased gaze on the girl who had fruitlessly been trying to fade unnoticed into the wall of her small, gray cubicle.

"Might I make a comment, Miss Chelles? I needn't remind you that you aren't to be letting anyone distract from your work while you're here on company time, do I?"

The dark-skinned student-placement employee ducked her head dismally and muttered out a timely, "No, Mr. Kirkland."

"Yes, I should hope not." The chief executive replied, only slightly mollified. "Oh, and Miss Chelles, you can stop bringing me that poorly steeped tea from now on." The gears in his head seemed to be spinning quite fast all of a sudden. "I suppose this new hire will take over for that."

Arthur conveniently missed the unintelligible 'Thank god!' that was nearly a wheeze, and gave a probing glance around the sea of cubicles. Satisfied with the orchestra of keystrokes and ringing phones being answered, the CEO stalked off briskly to properly manage the apparent new hire that would, _hopefully_, bring an end to all his major problems and not screw it up.

Saya Chelles let out a breath as soon as the boss disappeared from view and immediately rolled her chair to the cubicle beside her. "Unfair! How come that invisible trick never works for me?!"

Matthew Williams smiled back at her sheepishly. "Just lucky I guess."

* * *

When the CEO returned to the scene of the crime, it was with a weary, pessimistic step. His green gaze was expectant and critical as he laid eyes on the strange new man who was to be his replacement secretary of sorts.

Said man was sitting at the now neatly cleared desk, eyes trained on a glossy, black piece of technology held in the palm of his hand. The American was swiveling his thumb so swiftly upon it that as Arthur watched on he felt the motion resembled a form of hypnosis.

The tousle-haired man cleared his throat in a pointed manner, drawing the American's attention.

As soon as he noticed Arthur, the American at once tucked the electronic away in his smart suit jacket, standing up from his chair and smiling an admittedly charming smile at the CEO.

Arthur was a bit miffed to see he stood slightly taller.

"Hi again. I figured you'd come back sooner or later." He commented (in a _so typically_ brazen American fashion). "I'm guessing no one warned you I'd be here, but I suppose that's _my_ job now, huh?" The man joked and fluidly slid a piece of thick paper across the desk top. "Arthur, right? Arthur Kirkland?"

"Yes, yes, hullo and all that-" Arthur impatiently snatched up the paper he saw was a résumé. He glanced at the name. "Mr. Jones. If you'd be so kind-"

Jones laughed, interrupting the stodgy CEO's spiel. The green-eyed man's frown became more pronounced. "May I ask what is so funny, Mr. Jones?"

The bespectacled man laughed lightly again, blinking blue eyes and giving a slightly amused smirk. "It's- it's the whole Mr. Jones thing. You can call me Alfred."

"…" Arthur stared and squared his shoulders, a mite unprepared for the cheery attitude.

"…Allow me to be the first and last to say it, since it appears no one has briefed you on the subject, but here at Heta Corporation it's the common practice to maintain a certain level of authority and respect at all times."

"Oh… yeah? That's so… _impersonal_." The man grinned, and Arthur blinked, marginally struck by how much younger he suddenly looked.

"At my last placement we all called each other by our first names."

Arthur felt his lip twitch in annoyance. "Right, yes. Well, Mr. Jones, you were hired out of immediate necessity- so do _not_ be surprised if you aren't here for very long." Mr. Kirkland informed brutally.

Jones just raised an eyebrow before smiling a mysterious little smile that had Arthur looking back over his shoulder in suspicion as he entered his personal office.

The CEO slammed the door and from inside, his peevish voice drifted through to Alfred's ears. "Now do your job and organize those damned papers!"

* * *

It was nearing lunch time when the boss emerged from the lacquered mahogany door, the caffeine fix from his morning cup of tea having started to wear off.

Arthur gaped at the presently tidy surfaces which had just a little while ago been his major source of woe. He looked at his new assistant dubiously. "You can't have finished already."

Alfred smiled smugly from his chair and stopped biting on the end of his pen to gesture with it. "Sure, it was nothing. I started a slightly new system though. Your old one was like something out of the _50s_."

Arthur's chin jutted out at that evaluation, brows furrowing as he hastened to find something wrong with this so-acclaimed new system.

The cabinet was filled with neatly aligned folders, all properly organized. The coding was actually quite easy to follow. The CEO flipped through them in growing disbelief. After a moment, his face settled on an expression of quiet and somewhat pleased surprise.

"Who are you then, Superman?" The CEO asked askance, but held his tongue from going further with it when Jones seemed entirely too proud with that comparison.

"Superhuman strength and _X-ray vision_?" Alfred's mouth tipped up at the side and… he rested a hand on his cheek, leaning as his baby blue eyes did a slow glance up and down. "I wish."

Arthur paused. He shifted the folder in his hands, feeling a small amount of heat unexpectedly warm his cheeks. He dragged his green gaze away and cursed internally, wondering why he suddenly felt as if he wasn't wearing any clothes.

"Nope, I'm plain old awesome Clark Kent, ready to get down and do the nitty-gritty." Alfred's smile widened into a grin and he adjusted his glasses, pleating his hands in an attempt to affect an appropriately bookish appearance.

Arthur disagreed on all accounts.

Somehow he knew this Alfred F. Jones was anything but mild-mannered.

The CEO found himself looking back over his shoulder at the new hire again, this time as he headed out for an important lunch meeting.

And for the first time of many to come, Mr. Kirkland began to wonder if this wasn't an introduction to an entirely new set of problems into his life instead of a solution.

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End part 1.

Liked it? Didn't like it? Review please!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and I'm making no money from this!

A/N: Thanks for all the great reviews!! Again this is AU setting and uses human names. Will contain sexual situations!

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**Part Two**

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It was Wednesday and day timer and briefcase in hand, the Heta Corporation CEO tried to make a beeline for his door.

"Morning, Arthur."

Foiled. The boss looked over crossly at the young American man who was tilting his chair heavily onto two of its wheels, leaning out of the side of his desk with an expectant smile.

Arthur's mouth turned down in displeasure at the poor sitting habit, and deemed it appropriate to voice what he was feeling just then.

"I'll fire you before the week is through."

Alfred laughed with genuine humor and clucked his tongue, eyes visibly curved in amusement over the top of his glasses. "And people say you can't make a joke."

_Who says…?_ The boss almost asked, but frowned instead. There was no point – the grapevine at this place practically ran with a high-speed connection.

The executive let out a disgruntled, "Hah."

Jones (thankfully) let his chair crash back to the floor and started clicking away at his issued desktop CPU, presumably familiarizing himself with the network.

"Yeah," The blue-eyed man hummed a devilish smile and glanced back up at his boss. "I think you're gonna want to keep me."

Arthur just stared for a long moment, before he gave into his daily mood and acquired an impressively grimaced look. He barked out his age-old adage. "NO CALLS. And Mr. Jones, it's Mr. Kirkland _not_ Arthur."

The door opened and slammed, and that was how an era of new troubles at Heta Corporation made its first beginnings.

The CEO was vaguely unsettled by the American's steadfast cheery attitude. Someone _that_ happy couldn't actually be doing their work. It was too difficult to wrap his mind around. Real work was hard. And painful! Likelihood had it that if an employee was smiling nonsensically to himself in his cubicle he was probably updating his blog instead of cracking down.

Arthur made it a point to dole out his typical brand of encouragement (RE: Unequivocal Berating), to see that all of the staff went home with that certain dog-eared aggrieved look only achieved by a hard day's work.

All his previous secretaries had certainly left that way in any case.

Still, what was worse was that the British man couldn't even chock it up to a lack of the burden known as intelligence. The younger man definitely had it. With a sour need for some slight vindication over his upturned filing system, the CEO had taken it as a special case to actually go and follow up on Jones's résumé.

Glitteringly flawless.

If the term 'hero' could've been stamped and packaged into a single sheet of paper for the office world, it would've been labelled _Alfred F. Jones_.

And over the course of the next few days, the boss was loathe to admit that Alfred was quickly proving to be a valuable asset to Heta Corp. You'd have to be an idiot to get rid of somebody who could keep on top of it all. This realisation did not come without a price, though.

Really, it was the _little_ things that made the whole situation unbearable in a way Arthur Kirkland had never had to suffer.

Alfred F. Jones might've been a workplace hero.

But Alfred F. Jones was also completely, and utterly, annoying.

* * *

It was the next Thursday, and the secretary burst into his office without knocking, the door banging open as the American swept in and strode over to stand before the large oaken desk. It was a move which was quickly becoming commonplace despite how many times the boss's head shot up in distress, clutching his chest in false alarm.

"Arthur! Got this ready for you! Sign it up." Alfred enthused.

The CEO glanced up at the bundle of papers and immediately held up a hand to ward it out of his face. He threw his pen down. "Idiot! Moron! Bind the papers with the blue rollers! It's a proposal, not an active project, well isn't it?"

Alfred just laughed in his amused way. "Actually… it's the proofread 1st quarter finance report. You said to use the black ones on those."

"…" Mr. Kirkland chewed his lips in a squinted silence. "…Yes. Right. Hand it over then."

The report was slapped into the CEO's proffered palm (in a chuffed manner, really), and Alfred clasped his hands behind his back to wait, his head tilted to the side with a smile.

Arthur sighed to himself and rubbed his forehead as he looked over the numbers. It was good, if not excellent work, again. Honestly, it shouldn't have been possible to get exasperated over _good_ results, but Mr. Kirkland was a special man.

Of course, nobody was completely perfect.

"Mr. Jones…You marked out the U's in certain words and replaced S's with Z's." The boss deadpanned, staring up at his secretary from under his hooded hand.

"Zed's. That's so funny. It's 'zee'." The American corrected, not at all reformed.

"You…!"

* * *

Alfred F. Jones (hobbies include: karaoke and archaeology), was one of those people who felt the need to lick their finger before turning a page.

Arthur neurotically scribbled on the wrinkled spots with black marker when they showed up on his copies.

Alfred didn't steal the company pens, but he did bite on them as if he were wishing he was having a candy snack instead.

Eventually the younger man did switch out the pen caps for candies – but rather than this giving his boss cause for relief, the frequent crinkling of sweet paper and gum cracking just gave Arthur a continuously sugar-plied male secretary.

The American also had a bizarre tendency to have a hamburger instantly in his hand come lunch time, and the constant stream of them didn't seem to stop until the very last minute of his break.

It was something akin to driving past a particularly grisly car accident on the roadway – while on route either to or from Mr. Kirkland's private office, the sight of the man putting away burger after burger while simultaneously working on his high-tech handheld was difficult to not gape at.

Sometimes the sight extended even to _beyond _his desk.

The CEO had given Alfred the job of doing a quick break-down presentation for some board members. Alfred did it while eating a burger. Sure it was a lunch meeting, but you didn't eat _while_ you said your piece! Arthur had looked around and felt alone when it seemed like everyone else had understood what was being said. Or maybe they had been pretending.

Whatever the case, it was a certain thing that above all else Alfred F. Jones was obnoxious and cheery in a special way that tested Arthur Kirkland's nerves.

But at the end of the day, he really did get the work done.

So it was not without some internal denial that the executive finally decided that, yes, for now… He'd keep him.

* * *

It was Tuesday and Arthur blinked tiredly, rubbing at one eye as he scrolled through a long document file. It was raining like the whole sky had opened up outside, and the tousle-haired man couldn't help letting out a slight yawn. The executive spied the time on his clock with muted surprise. Four o'clock. Tea time.

Perking slightly, Arthur considered that. He had been very busy the past few weeks and had developed a habit of having his meetings scheduled around this time. Because of that, receiving some afternoon tea in the office had never come up as a problem.

Arthur yawned again and relented, jabbing his intercom button to talk. "Jones come in here."

He took his finger off the device and Jones appeared in his customary way, this time looking mildly concerned (probably because for once he had actually been invited inside). "Arthur?"

Damn how he refused to quell that penchant for a first name basis.

"…Bring me some tea, would you?"

Alfred squinted and pursed his lips – an expression that he rarely wore when confronted with other tasks. "Tea."

It was a thoughtful statement more than a question, but Mr. Kirkland was too busy checking his monitor and trying to stifle another yawn to look up.

"Caffeine, man. Caffeine. And make it snappy." The British man snapped his fingers for emphasis in his assistant's general direction, very much absorbed in his computer.

He vaguely heard Alfred snort in amusement before moseying away.

It was really much too soon that the blue-eyed blond returned, holding a large mug of something steaming. Jones set it down next to the CEO's hand and the tousle-haired man took it up. In truth he greatly preferred his tea in a proper cup and saucer, but he supposed for a first attempt it would have to do. He took a sip.

Coffee sprayed out of his mouth.

"W-what the bloody hell is this!?" Mr. Kirkland sputtered.

"Instant cuppa joe." Alfred answered, not looking apologetic at all. In fact he looked like he was enjoying himself.

Arthur held the mug at arms length and distantly noticed it had a stars and stripes pattern. "I asked for tea!" He yelled, extremely harassed.

"Hey this is quicker than tea. Besides,"

Alfred took out a handkerchief and patted it gently against his boss's chin. "Well, you do look more awake now."

A flood of heat coloured Arthur's cheeks and he irritably shoved the younger man's hand away, blinking aimlessly as he turned back to his computer screen (this time staring with a whole lot less concentration than before).

"Go! And take this slop with you." The British man pushed the mug hastily, waving his hand to get Jones to leave.

"Yeesh. Waste good coffee will you." Alfred rolled his eyes and grabbed up the beverage, shrugging as he walked out and started sipping it himself.

* * *

It was Friday and the Heta Corp. CEO was packing his briefcase in record speed, keeping an eye peeled on the time. His telephone conversation with one of the company's bankers had run a bit long and now he was cutting it close for his meeting with some sponsors.

The green-eyed man headed out of his rooms and very nearly crashed into his assistant.

"Yes, yes what is it?" Arthur huffed out impatiently, trying to get around the younger man.

"Arthur, I- hey wait-!" Alfred decided to bodily block the boss's door, holding a folder up. "I need you to sign off on this release."

"I'll sign it when I get back." Arthur scowled imperiously, moving to get by, but the bespectacled man shook his head.

"That won't work. This has to be couriered by 5 o'clock today. If you leave _now_ there won't be enough time to get it out, and it'll have to wait until Monday, which is a _bad_ idea since-"

"All right! Just-" Arthur glanced hurriedly at his watch. "Just come with me then. You can brief me in the Bentley."

* * *

"So, like, tell me more about that lawyer guy you're still stuck on."

"Oh well, _you know_… he hasn't come into the office in a while! I'm so upset! I could've sworn he noticed me when I wore that skirt – the blue one."

"Oh em gee, Elizaveta. I saw that. He was _totally_ checking you out."

"I know, right?" Elizaveta Héderváry exclaimed, waving around her cup of water from the water cooler.

"Both you two back to your desks!" A very British voice commanded, and the two talking employees immediately straightened as Mr. Kirkland and his new assistant walked through the Sales department hall briskly.

"It'll save an extra 15 minutes if we take the freeway past-"

"We're not even in the car yet and you're backseat driving. Jones!"

"It's Alfred. _Alfred. A_ to the _L_ to the _F_ to the-"

"Just_ walk._"

The voices faded away as the two men went around a corner, and the two employees shared a look before relaxing back into their previous laid-back positions.

The cantankerous boss of the corporation somehow managed to get the idea that people just milled about the water cooler for the sake of having an excuse to talk. Well… sure it was _true_ and all – but honestly Elizaveta's mouth did get pretty parched after all the gossiping she did.

"Wow. So that's, like, the latest assistant, huh? Drama."

"And how. That sucks. Mr. Kirkland doesn't even call him by the right name! I know I'd go insane if my supervisor walked around calling me 'Elizabeth' or something."

Feliks nodded in total agreement, leaning back comfortably on their water cooler. The woman crushed her paper cup and copied her male friend.

Feliks was the type of flamboyant co-worker who it was hard to tell if he was actually gay or just metro. Of course there was always the option that his fabulousness could've stemmed from the fact that he was Polish.

"After the way the last assistant left I figured that whole gig was just _so not cool._" Feliks shimmied his hand. "Like, _how_ is he lasting so long?"

Before the brunette woman could reply, a skulking, eavesdropping guy with whitish hair popped up from behind a nearby cubicle wall.

"Hey! Listen up girls."

Both Feliks and Elizaveta looked across and mouthed 'girls?' to each other.

"Fine, listen up _dudes_. I have my theories; he's an undercover spy for Lia Industries. You guys don't even wanna _know_ my sources on this."

Lia Industries, the high powered Russian origin conglomerate, was Heta Corp's leading competitor and proverbial thorn-in-the-side within the business world. Everyone who worked for the London-based Heta Corp. knew about Lia Industries and of its heavy shroud of wintery domination that leeched on their annual figures.

"Pretty soon we'll be taken over and all of us are gonna be _out of the job_." The whitish haired idiot continued on with his conspiracy theory.

Elizaveta glowered at the hovering guy. "Get lost, Beilschmidt!"

"Fine! But you'll all see! Pretty soon you'll be wishing I'd told you more!" Gilbert Beilschmidt got up, grabbing up a nearby mail cart and began wheeling it away as he went off somewhere.

The actual mail guy came back from his break just a moment after and let out a panicked, "Hey, what?" before starting to look for his cart.

Feliks snorted and helped him out by pointing in the wrong direction.

Nobody actually knew _what_ Gilbert did at Heta Corp. They just knew he was apparently 'awesome' at it.

Elizaveta rolled her eyes.

Now THAT was a _real _conspiracy.

* * *

Meanwhile, somewhere a shiny, forest green Bentley was stuck in traffic.

Alfred didn't even bother to hide his smug tone. "I did say-"

"Oh just shut it." Arthur groused out, and listened on in silence as his secretary started biting a pen.

* * *

End part 2

Liked it? Didn't like it? Review please!


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and I'm making no money from this!

A/N: Thanks to all those who are reading this!

* * *

**Part Three**

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Despite the traffic, the Heta Corporation CEO managed to reach the meeting on time. His assistant read aloud most of the release he was so adamant about on the way there, so that all Arthur needed to do was quickly flip through and add a signature.

During the meeting, Jones used the occasion to discover one of his beloved hamburger restaurants (seriously, how did he keep finding them?) and had been readily waiting when Mr. Kirkland stepped out of the boardroom.

They were on their way back again and the cacophony of honks and revving engines did little to drown out the younger man's chatter.

"Don't you guys get tired of driving on the wrong side of the road." Alfred commented inanely, turning his face into the breeze of his open window.

Arthur spared his secretary a droll look. "This is London. It's the _right_ side."

"You mean left side."

"…You-" A sound like a gunshot went off, interrupting what the boss had been about to say. A wave of white smoke started billowing out the tailpipe, the resulting cloud garnering a few displeased honks from the traffic behind. The boss hastily pulled over onto the freeway shoulder.

"Cor _blimey._"

"Pop the hood, I'm pretty good with machines."

"And let you touch my Bentley? Are you absurd?"

Jones just unbuckled his seatbelt and hopped out, going around and thumping the bonnet expectantly. Mr. Kirkland sighed and popped it.

One quick inspection later and Alfred F. Jones was seated back in the vehicle, the boss frowning in consternation when the other couldn't seem to stop laughing and snickering over the fact that Arthur had actually, quite literally, blown a gasket.

"So you want me to call a tow truck?" Alfred finally asked, finished with his hilarity and wiping the corner of his eye. He was already reaching in his jacket pocket for his handheld.

"Don't be daft." Arthur scoffed, reaching for his own. "I haven't got 3 luxury vehicles just to go without the exorbitant maintenance plan that goes with them."

Alfred let out a low appreciative whistle, and his boss punched in an emergency contact number, starting to talk with the personnel on the other line.

"Yes, hullo, this is Arthur Kirkland-"

It was swiftly becoming a one-sided conversation.

"Yes, _Kirkland._ Not Kinkland." Arthur repeated with a frown.

Alfred sniggered, hiding it when a look was quickly shot at him. The American listened amiably as the discussion went on.

"Must I give you all this information you clearly already have? I'll have you know I am a very busy man."

And on.

"No you bloody cow! I told _you_ to hold on a moment. I've got the damned thing here, I've just-"

The businessman reached one hand over to unlock the glove compartment, shuffling around in the papers there with mounting agitation. He nearly dropped the phone in his haste, and he made an angry motion with his arm for Alfred to find it instead.

'What am I looking for?' Alfred mouthed at him.

Arthur just made a frustrated noise.

Alfred tongued the inside of his cheek in contemplation for a brief moment, before he reached an arm around his employer, tapping the tousle-haired man on the shoulder.

"I am almost – hold on, what's that?" Arthur fell for the tap and Alfred deftly stole the cellular.

"Hi, this is Alfred! Who am I speaking with?" Alfred smiled as he spoke (overly pleasantly) into the pilfered phone. "Oh, well hey there Susan." He drawled, making Arthur's eyebrows draw into a thick line.

"I just wanted to confirm, is it the policy number you needed?" The reply must've been in the affirmative, because the American instantly whipped up a little slip of paper he found from the crunched pile. "Perfect! I've got it here, the numbers are…" A series of numbers were rattled off and then he waited, listening to woman on the other line.

"So you're sending a truck over? …30 minutes? Okay, awesome! Thanks Susan, bye—" Alfred clicked the phone off and glanced over at his employer, obviously pleased with himself.

Arthur just huffed and neatly snatched his mobile back. He supposed the American could be charming if he tried.

"I bet you do a positively ripping impression of a _used car _salesman, don't you?" The CEO intoned wryly.

Alfred feigned a hurt look and then grinned, leaning back in his seat comfortably. "Yeah, because _all_ Americans sound like that." He gained a sly smile. "I could probably do a great impression of your wife, though."

Arthur snorted loudly, shaking his head in actual amusement this time. "I shudder to think about what you could come up with. In any case, I'm not married. Thank heavens."

"That's too bad." Alfred quirked an eyebrow unsympathetically. "And here I was looking forward to trying it."

"And I don't have a girlfriend either." Arthur shot out quickly, noticing his assistant had opened his mouth again.

Alfred shut it, and the British man… paused uncomfortably.

…What the _hell _had possessed him to offer that info up? Arthur fell into a sudden hole of discomfort. He could've shot himself. It wasn't as if he _needed_ to give the other man any more ammunition to add to his already impressive arsenal of annoyances.

"Heh," Jones broke the short silence. "Can't say I'm surprised. An old fogey like you?" The American seemed content with his appraisal, using the seat lever to put his seat back down criminally far. Arthur watched as he had the gall to close his eyes and smirk a little. "It figures."

"I beg your pardon?" Arthur's earlier unease flew away and his face turned a bothered red. "_Old fogey?_"

Alfred's eyes blinked open and he laughed in an appeasing way. "Hey it's kind of true. You know – tea, forgetfulness…"

The boss struggled to find some sort of reply to that, but gave up instead, looking around tersely. "Where is that damned release that made me include you on this excursion in the first place?"

"Ha, funny, Arthur." Alfred sat up. "I gave it to you after we left the sponsors' boardroom. You set it down and-" The assistant raised his eyebrows. "You didn't forget it there did you?"

…Mr. Kirkland's hackles raised in an extreme mixture of blushing embarrassment and denial.

"Hey, the tow truck is early!"

Arthur thanked God it was Friday.

* * *

The rain had been pelting down rather hard recently in the city, leaving everything in a perpetually wet haze that was surely a nightmare for curly-haired types. Even so, Saturday had to be Alfred's favourite day (It ranked number 2, just under his birthday).

On Saturday he would blissfully enjoy the chance to finally spend some time out of his stuffy work clothes and to unwind with a good movie and a beer.

That was currently why Alfred was at a pub wearing his preferred hoodie (featuring a weathered print of the American flag) while waiting for his friend Kiku Honda to arrive.

A lot of people had trouble believing the two men were actually friends just because, at first glance, each man appeared to be so different – but they really had more in common than most knew.

"I apologize for my lateness," Kiku inclined his head, sliding into the booth seat across from Alfred. "There was a mix-up with the mail at the building. One tenant received some Swedish furniture instead of another brand and made quite a big scene about it. It was a huge mess.."

"Huh, you're kidding." Alfred looked amused at that, and took a quick swig from his beer. A wry grin stretched his mouth as he peered down into it. "That reminds me of Mr. Kirkland's face when I brought him coffee instead of tea."

Kiku raised an eyebrow slightly at that.

The Japanese man had been friends with Alfred for a long time, and ever since his friend had started his job at Heta Corp, there had been a new trend in their conversations.

Namely, Mr. Kirkland.

By now Kiku was sure he knew more about the Heta Corporation boss than was probably kosher.

Kiku also knew enough to discern that all the signs were pointing in the direction that Alfred was harbouring a bit of a… man-crush on his employer.

And he'd said as much.

"Kiku." Alfred just gave him an unconvinced look. "No-ooh. No."

Of course, he was in denial about it.

"Don't tell me you're starting one of those 'reading the atmosphere' things again."

"Now you're changing the subject." Kiku remarked lightly.

Alfred heaved a sigh and sat back in his chair. The secretary pictured his boss in his mind – thick eyebrows scowling for all he was worth, mouth wide open as he raged over something (Attack Mode: +500 Aggro). He didn't see why his friend always had to bring up his employer.

"He's… _old_." Not really. "And a complete bastard." But it's funny.

Alfred shook his head. "Come on. This is revenge for me asking you about your weird ass 2D obsession isn't it?"

…The Japanese man thought about pressing on, but his friend had garnered a red tinge to his cheeks and was starting to get the beginnings of a frown, so Kiku succumbed, reading the atmosphere and changing the subject.

"Ah. Well. Have I told you? The apartment supervisor Sadiq-san threatened to call the authorities on another tenant for his cats, again."

"What, does he have like, 20 cats?"

Kiku smiled at that. "Just about…"

* * *

Inevitably, everything went back to Monday. And so it was on that day that the American petted a hand through the back of his hair as he headed inside the shiny building of Heta Corporation.

Mr. Kirkland arrived at the top floor a few minutes later, eyes pinned to his day timer as per usual, and Alfred automatically redirected the man's phone calls to his own issued line.

One of the girls from down in the Accounting department came in just before lunch lugging a thick wad of folders and set them on Alfred's desk with a bang.

The intercom gave a fizzle.

"Cancel my 1:30." The boss's voice buzzed through. "…And you need to work through lunch."

Alfred took out his handheld and texted a cynical but triumphant message to a certain Japanese friend.

[ you're still wrong! ]

* * *

Alfred sat on the corner of the CEO's desk and brandished a mug of coffee at the man.

"Ok. Seriously this time. You have to taste this. It's a special roast."

"…Why do you insist on bringing me coffee? Jones! Bring me tea!"

And so, in the lunch room:

"You and Mr. Kirkland sure get along in a weird way. _Nobody_ else likes him."

"Uh, yeah. So is the tea done yet, Saya?"

* * *

"Try one of these scones. You simply _cannot_ live in England without eating a scone. Honestly."

"I've had these before, they're not that-" Crunch. "Bad…"

"R-really? I mean… of course they're not. Here, have the rest of them."

"….."

And later:

"Ah, Alfred! Oh. Are you ill?" Francis looked at him with interest.

"Scones."

"Mon ami. You are clearly generous when it comes to Monsieur Kirkland."

* * *

It was Thursday and Alfred burst into Mr. Kirkland's office, intending to drop a few things in his inbox.

"Ah! Jones, you take this. I'm on hold with the overseas division." Arthur seemed glad for his entrance, dangling a telephone receiver at him in relief. The assistant blinked and tossed the papers into the box.

"What's wrong with speaker phone?" Alfred accused pointedly around the lollipop he was eating, but took the receiver anyway.

"One second of that awful mood music is enough, thank you."

The American pressed the phone to his ear and sure enough an annoying but catchy song was crackling over the line. Alfred internally shrugged and took a seat on the edge of the desk, making himself comfortable. He idly sucked at his lollipop.

"Jones."

"Mm?" Alfred glanced down.

The boss wordlessly crooked a finger at the younger man, urging him to lean down. Alfred felt some heat come to his cheeks. He hesitated a moment before easing closer.

Arthur reached over and pulled the candy-on-a-stick out of Alfred's mouth with a resounding 'pop'.

"Mmrf- what the hell, Arthur…!"

"_Please_ refrain from slurping on your sweets in my office."

Alfred straightened up and made an unhappy face that wasn't quitea pout, but was pretty close.

Arthur just ignored him and thumbed through a booklet. The boss held the confiscated confection between two fingers, twisting it slightly back and forth as he turned the document pages with the other.

For some reason, Alfred couldn't take his gaze off of it, it was almost magnetic. The top was red and glistening, still wet from Alfred's tongue.

Arthur reached up to shift some blond fringe out of his eyes, curving his lips as if he wished for some tea.

The green-eyed man caught Alfred's stare and gave a curious expression.

"Has it connected yet?"

A small flush stole over Alfred's nose.

Shit.

Over the telephone, the wailing sounds of the music kept filtering through, and Alfred muttered something unintelligible in reply.

Mr. Kirkland put a hand on Alfred's knee to get him to move it out of the way so he could have renewed access to his desk drawers. A full-on blush crept up Alfred's neck to burn brightly on his cheeks as he moved it.

The telephone call suddenly patched through and the secretary was relieved to give the line over.

"Ah!" The CEO covered the mouthpiece briefly. "Thank you, that will be all, Mr. Jones." He handed off the lollipop and Alfred took it back dumbly, walking out with his thoughts racing.

* * *

When Alfred F. Jones got into bed that night and closed his eyes, he couldn't stop from thinking back to that day when he and his boss had been stuck in the car together. He was lying down in the Bentley's cushioned seat, and…

This time Mr. Kirkland leaned down over him. Warm, firm lips touched his own in a needy, heady kiss, fingers deftly popping open the buttons on his shirt as he arched up into them, and then– a hand smoothing sinfully lower…

Alfred's eyes darted open, breathing quickly.

Kiku had been right.

He was in deep.

* * *

End part 2

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	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and I'm making no money from this!

A/N: er, so… here's a new chapter thanks to the kind readers who encouraged me to keep going with this AU despite a long period of inactivity. Hope this is ok. Thanks OTL!

* * *

**Part Four**

* * *

It was the middle of the week, and all was mundane in the 4th floor lunch room. Things had usually been mundane in the accounting eating space – until somebody stumbled onto the fact that some poor fool was supplying free donuts and baked goods in the hopes of gaining office popularity. From then on Heta Corp employees from different departments would descend on the small lunch room to get a share of the goods before they were all gone.

Gilbert Beilschmidt stuffed another donut into his mouth just as the noontime crowd arrived and tried to filter in through the single doorway. The white-haired employee raised his head from the mostly empty box and laughed. "Hey late birds! Should've been earlier to beat the awesome me. Which one of you dumbbells keeps buying these things, anyway?" Crumbs flew from the guy's mouth as he quickly ate the last donut.

"Oh man that's good! Maple flavoured! I love that shit!"

"You ate them all? You pig!" Elizaveta scowled heavily as she clawed her way through the pack.

Groans and upset mumblings sounded from the group of employees as most of them milled away leaving just a few hanging about to finish their lunches at the two lone tables.

Feliks sat on the edge of one said table and sipped at a protein shake. "So, like, did you hear about it? I totally saw Mr. Kirkland… _smiling_… when he came into the building today."

Elizaveta gave a spooky shiver. "Ooo. That's unreal." She appeared suitably disturbed as she took a seat and peeled open a tupperware lid.

Saya Chelles gave a disbelieving scoff from where she sat starting on a salad. "Wow. That's… an interesting tidbit if I ever heard one."

"Did somebody say TimBit?" A whispery, Canadian voice sounded from the doorway, though no one really took notice when it entered the room.

"I still say there's a spy." Gilbert said loudly.

"Ah… a spy, eh...?"

"Don't any of you listen to him! Gilbert is full of it." Elizaveta took a moment to glare at said lounging guy, before continuing. "There is no spy coming to sabotage Heta Corp! And what does that even have to _do_ with Mr. Kirkland?"

The lounging East German's eyes bugged open wide and he pointed wildly, half laughing and half disbelieving at the bunch of co-workers. "You guys are so naïve! Our one greatest defense is slowly being infiltrated! It won't be long before the eyebrow man takes a dive off the deep end and sells this whole place off."

Saya gulped. "H-hold on. You're implying-"

"Che," Elizaveta tutted disappointedly. "Things are mostly the same as always you know. Just last week you joined the betting pool about when his new assistant would leave. Heck – you started it!"

"Heh," Gilbert chuckled in recollection of all the bets he'd collected. "Still, there's something fishy here."

"I think that's just my tuna sandwich." Saya Chelles shook her head. "Alfred is doing a good job."

"Now that you mention it… Maybe _too_ good a job." Gilbert squinted in distrust.

"So like, what do _you _think the deal is with the boss and his assistant?" Feliks asked his Hungarian friend, slurping up the last of his shake.

"Well, I-I mean…" Elizaveta flustered as everyone looked at her expectantly. She caved and gained a decisive, starry-eyed look. "Isn't it obvious? He's got to be a long lost relative of Mr. Kirkland's, come to renew their estranged relationship!"

Gilbert gagged. "How the hell is that half-assed angst obvious?"

Elizaveta stabbed a fork into her leftovers. "It makes more sense than your fatalistic mumbo-jumbo!"

Gilbert and Elizaveta were notorious for having spats and disagreeing with each other just for the sake of disagreeing. So it wasn't so surprising that by the end of the lunch hour two warring factions of 'Team Spy' and 'Team Bro' had sprung up into existence and anyone who was within listening vicinity was promptly forced to choose a side.

Feliks offered to make t-shirts.

Francis popped his head into the lunch room. "Everyone~! The Boss is coming."

* * *

Arthur Kirkland stood in the large 8th floor boardroom having seen out a large group of associates from an extremely successful meeting just that morning. Heta Corp landed a spectacular new multi-million euro account and the CEO could not be more ecstatic with how things were running today.

All the same, the CEO managed to contain the almost uncontrollable urge to whoop –Though not even that could have stopped the boss from a celebratory stroll throughout the building, in which he finished up back where he started, humming with hands stuck casually into trouser pockets, looking out the boardroom wall of windows down onto the city below.

If he could liken the satisfied feeling to anything, it probably would be like being the ruler of a vast and sprawling Empire.

Arthur snorted to himself and wondered what Jones would have to say about that.

Gradually, Arthur's humming came to a stop, and his thoughts took a different turn.

He had never before paid so much attention to his previous secretaries that he had known any of their names, or had even gone far enough to think about them much – but then again, Alfred F. Jones was the type who commanded attention either because he was being loud, annoying, or daring in some manner.

Mr. Kirkland smiled amusedly at the image. A second later he caught himself doing it and tried to frown instead. His reflection in the window betrayed a confused expression more than anything else though, and he was forced to look down at nothing in particular, thinking.

As much as he hated to admit it, the boss had become… accustomed… to the assistant's constant chatter, and even started seeking it out – if only to be able to berate something useless the other ended up saying. It was a bit alarming to examine, but in the back of his mind he knew he felt …comfortable…

It was a strange turn of events that out of all the underlings, associates, and everyone else in between, the copiously busy CEO would find the most camaraderie with his unexpected American assistant.

On a good day he might even acknowledge it as friendship of sorts…

And today being the good day it was, it was Mr. Kirkland who, come noon, allowed himself a pause when he headed out of the office – looking up from his day timer at Alfred F. Jones.

"Well? Don't just sit there."

"Hmrf?" Alfred glanced over.

"I fancy some lunch occasionally. Preferably before the whole hour goes higgledy-piggledy."

He didn't catch the American's deer-in-the-headlights expression with a burger already half-way in his mouth, or the charming one a moment later as he swooped to grab up his belongings and follow.

As he walked ahead, Arthur was holding the little schedule book close to his face to try and ward off the embarrassed red tinge burning there.

From that point on, it turned out to be the beginning of a very good week.

* * *

By Tuesday, Arthur Kirkland was starting to doubt his earlier predilections on the definition of 'good' and bemoaned why he hadn't considered 'hopelessly distracting' instead.

The stretch into a different era at Heta Corporation took shape into a long string of what could only be called miscommunications; all of them commencing with the harmless placement of a hand on the back of his chair.

"-and we don't even have a use for another printer copier. By the way, the Russian e-mail spam problem?" Chomp. Smack. "I'm still on it, though we'll likely need to bring in PowerCOM to-"

Smack Pop Chomp.

"But before it goes through it's got to clear with Accounting." Crack. Pop.

Mr. Kirkland trailed his gaze up from the unassuming hand to his male secretary's face.

The relentless gum cracking in Arthur's ear made deciphering whatever Jones was expounding on for the last half hour a total lost cause.

"Right. Good." The CEO cleared his throat and hunkered down to peer over the report Jones had repeatedly jabbed at while standing next to him.

"Great!"

Daily meeting ended, Alfred made to bang the office door closed behind him, as was his customary way, but at the last second a thoughtful expression passed over his face.

The American gave the boss a quick salute, blue eyes decisive behind his glasses as he decided, quite amazingly, to quietly shut the door.

"…Bloody hell." Arthur uttered in shock.

The entire remainder of the day the gesture continued to draw the secretary appreciative glances from a surprised Mr. Kirkland.

By the next morning however, the pleasantries faded and gave way to a growing ebb of suspicion. As wonderful as a considerate and smoothly running office was, there _had_ to be the impending catch 22 waiting to spring simply because it wasn't just _any_ secretary behind it, but one _Alfred F. Jones_.

It was Friday when the British executive's office door was opened once again at a soothing decibel and said Alfred F. Jones strode inside licking slowly at an envelope. Arthur made sure to hood his eyes in a stare which he hoped to convey the message; 'I'm not sure what it is, but I'm on to you.'

Alfred just licked the envelope again – overkill really, the damned glue would never hold anymore – and mimicked Mr. Kirkland's own stare right back at him. The American grinned and borrowed the boss's (preferred brand of) stapler, sidling away.

The grand mahogany door shut with a gentle thump and the hair on the back of the CEO's neck stood on end.

* * *

"So what's the problem, you said you needed my help with something?" Alfred piped up, skirting a glimpse around the too-cramped filing room.

"It's this cabinet. _Merde_." Francis muttered a few incomprehensible curses. "It takes two to- well. Let me show you. Come! See?"

"_Oh_. I see what you mean."

Francis Bonnefoy was a human resources connoisseur, and with that in mind it was an expected phenomenon that his priorities – first and foremost – lay with the employees. So, naturally his interest concerning Monsieur Kirkland's assistant soared to new heights when the junior employee walked through the golden elevator doors of Heta Corp with his hair neatly trimmed (at some point over the weekend) and his glasses lenses recently polished. The attractive change warranted what proved to be a very tempting investigation.

The Frenchman beamed suggestively to himself, one elegant finger scratching the stubble on his chin.

"How does anyone put anything in here? This thing is huge!"

…That was how the Boss found the H-R director joyously observing as Jones purposely bent over into a filing cabinet.

Mr. Kirkland finally reached the end of his string.

"All right, that's enough!" Arthur strode imperiously into the filing room, authoritative voice making the two employees look around from what they had been doing. Or planning to do, in Bonnefoy's case. Mr. Kirkland could only imagine the illegalities.

"Out with it." The British man frowned impressively. "Who is he?"

Bonnefoy's silky eyebrow arched in fervour.

"Who's what, Arthur?" Jones righted himself.

Arthur stared horrified at the American for an alarming second – taking in the haircut and fresh face – before he crossed his arms and tried to put practicality first.

"Look. There's no need to beat around the bush here. Who is it that you're trying to impress?"

Francis felt delight. "Oui, who is it, Alfred?"

Alfred crunched down hard on the candy he'd happened to be eating and blankly shifted his eyes back and forth between the two slightly shorter men. His cheeks began to colour hot red.

"Urh-"

"Don't let the frog misinform you, Mr. Jones." Arthur spared the Frenchman a baleful glower for existing at the inopportune time.

"Is it another company? Because I can tell you right now you won't find anyone to pay you better than Heta Corporation!" Mr. Kirkland looked troubled and flustered. "Not to mention your salary is already exorbitant as it is."

"Can you blame him?" Bonnefoy crooned woefully, interrupting Alfred's aborted attempt at an explanation. Investigating sometimes meant stirring the pot. Or in this case, the CEO. "He is still young and the young are always searching for bigger and better-"

"Five percent raise."

Jones's eyebrows shot up and he opened his mouth. "H-"

"I hear ten is barely the minimum these days…" Bonnefoy cut in.

"Done!" Mr. Kirkland declared, and, at that settlement, the thick-eyebrowed man's shoulders relaxed making him appear euphorically at ease compared to his state of arrival. "Right then. I suppose… Carry on." The British man nodded at Bonnefoy, turning to take his leave.

"Oh, and Jones?"

Arthur watched the now swagger-filled employee attentively for a moment, and then ducked out, his voice drifting in as he trod away. "It's past tea time!"

Alfred let loose a gush of breath, ecstatically grabbing the stack of folders from the long-haired Frenchman's hands. Francis winked.

Normally the over-packed heavy duty filing cabinet needed at least two people to be opened and closed. One to heave while the other smashed down the tops of the overflowing folders so the metal drawer could careen out.

Alfred whistled as he dragged the thing open in one solid motion and stuffed the Frenchman's files inside with such force and alacrity that Francis gained a few sweat beads.

"Ah- Merci, mon ami."

"Hey, anytime Francis!"

"And where are you off to now, hm?" Bonnefoy wondered idly.

Alfred paused on his way out, hiking a thumb. "To get Mr. Kirkland some coffee."

He winked.

Francis adored his job.

* * *

"Argh, come on. Son of a-!"

Long brunette hair went flying as Elizaveta Héderváry ripped a stubborn piece of paper free of the huge multi-purpose photo copier printer which was the bane of the Sales department.

The plastic and metal monstrosity was infamous for being unreliable and guaranteed to chew your print outs the first 2 times. Currently, Elizaveta was struggling with a paper jam something fierce, the mega-unit refusing to spit out any pages of her important document at all.

Feliks came to see why the Hungarian woman wasn't at the water cooler, along with Gilbert in tow (who promptly pointed and laughed at the predicament). Somehow Francis the H-R director appeared too, and pretty soon almost the entire department was up from their cubicles or offices clustering around the printer room to see what the commotion was about.

"Okay. Who's the _genius_ who decided to photocopy his ass?" Elizaveta cracked a mangled paper where an unfortunate black and white image was burned onto it (and now the rest of the employees' minds) forever.

Gilbert, Francis, and surprisingly the Spanish supervisor – Antonio – each had faces holding separate varying degrees of transparent guilt, feigned innocence, and just flat out blockheaded self-absorption.

"…What's the date stamp on that?" Antonio asked sheepishly.

"Never mind!" Elizaveta groaned and tossed the paper away. "But somebody's got to fix this thing."

Obviously that had been the wrong thing to say, because all of sudden Gilbert was rolling up his sleeves and only their small circle of employees made the unwise decision to stay and watch the oncoming bloodbath, the rest booking it to the safety of their desks.

"Back up ladies and Polish! It's Gilbert Time."

The employees took turns prodding at the machine's control pad or jimmying the paper trays with stupidly dangerous articles (i.e. scissors).

"Victoire! My hand! It has grabbed hold!"

"Of my _thigh!_" Somebody else cried.

"Hey guys!" Alfred F. Jones popped his head in through the doorway. "There was no one answering the internal line so I-…" The assistant took in the chaotic scene. "Woo. Looks like you've all been through a war."

The group of bedraggled employees looked back at him from their various contorted positions around the hulking machine. For reasons unknown, Gilbert had his pants down part way in what was likely a half-baked plan to photocopy his ass again.

Alfred raised both his eyebrows. "Anybody call maintenance yet?"

"…."

"That was my next idea." Gilbert yelled.

Someone threw a tomato-shaped stress ball at his head.

* * *

The week had spiraled into its usual course at Heta Corporation, and soon it was Wednesday and after hours when Arthur Kirkland shut down his computer, packed up his briefcase and grabbed his coat.

Alfred was still sitting at his work station, scribbling notes onto a paper while occasionally referring to something on his computer monitor. The bespectacled man must have noticed him when he came out though, because he saved his work and stretched momentarily.

"Hey, Arthur." The assistant greeted. "If you're not in a complete rush to join the traffic, could you give this outline a once-over? I think we can get this going first thing tomorrow."

"I think I can spare a few minutes." Arthur intoned wryly and set down his briefcase, going over to provide the requested proofing.

While reading, Jones's began to thump a rhythm on the table, presumably to humour himself as he waited for Arthur to finish.

The CEO swatted his hand down onto his assistant's, stilling the incessant drumming. Satisfied at some peace, finally, the older man kept Alfred's hand firmly in place and leaned over the assistant's shoulder to peer at the text with more concentration.

…It was a few moments later that Arthur slowly realised he had been reading in absolute quiet without any kind of chatter for enough time to make it near the end of the page.

The green-eyed man turned his head and glanced curiously. Alfred was looking straight back at him, making Arthur acutely aware of how blue the younger man's eyes really were.

Alfred blinked and turned his gaze to his computer screen, the glow making the secretary's skin appear more pink than usual.

A tickling movement of fingers underneath his palm drew the British man's attention down to the desk. He noticed that he was still lightly holding Alfred's hand captive.

The Boss quickly relinquished the American's hand, straightening up slowly and taking a step back into breathable space.

Arthur wasn't blushing. Certainly, absolutely not. It was just unseasonably warm in there and that was all.

Jones chanced questioning blue eyes on his employer. "Arthur?"

Arthur felt his cheeks heat further. "I… that is, the report looks fine. I, ah, trust your judgment."

Alfred instantly chuckled at that and stuck a pen behind his ear. "You really must be tired. It's been a long day."

"…I suppose so." Arthur rearranged the jacket thrown over his arm, not having much of a reply. He settled on giving a half-hearted wave, nodding goodbye. "Good evening, Alfred."

A large smile immediately began to tug at the American's lips.

Arthur ruffled at some of his unruly fringe awkwardly, trying not to look directly at the other. "What? What's that smile on about?"

"You called me Alfred." The smile became fully fledged, blue eyes very nearly turned upwards behind glasses.

Arthur swallowed and shook his head. "Come again?"

"My _name_, you actually said my name." Jones was grinning now, and for once in the many months he had been working at Heta Corporation, the American had chosen to whisper. The anomaly was spoiled, though, because with the darkened room and the emptiness of the building every word they spoke now sounded loud and clear.

Arthur felt his blush return full force. "Y-yes, well… it's your bloody name or isn't it?"

Alfred didn't answer, just favoured the boss with an amused expression, before turning back to the glow of his computer, smile lingering. "Have a good one, Arthur."

Somewhere in between reaching the car park and thumping his head onto the steering wheel…

Arthur Kirkland found himself secretly acknowledging that Alfred F. Jones was very, very easy on the eyes.

* * *

End part 4

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